Steve Buys A Slave (27)

A story written by Pete Brown (Part 27 of 30). (Here you can find all the parts of this story.)

I strode up towards the top of the grounds. Reb and Karl were indeed working away – their skimpy uniforms were soaked in sweat, and they were almost steaming in the cool air. “You stupid fuckers!”, I raged at them. “You’ve blown it!….”

“What the fuck are you going on about? We’re working hard here….” Karl gestured at his damp body as he said this.

“Mortimer! That’s what I’m going on about! What the fuck did you think you were doing?”

Reb was looking surprised now, and Karl snapped “Who or what the fuck is Mortimer?”

“The owner’s cat!”

“Oh that moggy – big ugly brute! We’d just finished preparing a seed bed – dug it, raked it fine, levelled it, raked it again, and then that moggy comes and scratches around and digs a hole and starts to crap in it… So we chased it off.”

“You threw a stone at it!”

“It was only a clod of earth. It didn’t hit it – the stupid fucking thing had a good turn of speed… So shut the fuck up, Steve, and let us get on with our work, or else you’ll be complaining we don’t work hard enough…” Karl was sounding kind of angry now.

I looked at the two of them. “Listen, you stupid idiots… The owner here is a lady, an old lady, you know that. And the ‘moggy’ is Mortimer, her pride and joy. And if Mortimer wants to crap all over where you’ve been working, so fucking what? As it is, you’ve almost lost me the contract to have you working here. So now I’m going to have to punish you.”

“I know that. And anyway the punishment has got to be more tangible and immediate. Something that befits a slave….”

“I’m not a fucking slave!”

“But you’re playing the part of one, so I can give you a job here. So you’re going to have t behave like one as far as punishment is concerned, too. And I will have to beat you…”

“No fucking way!”

“OK, have it your way. If I can’t punish you as I’d punish a slave, then I’ll have to let you go – tell the customer here that I’m selling you. And then you’ll have no money, unless Jake can give you some – and I know he’s got absolutely nothing spare. So you’ll be effectively destitute, so you’ll end up as a slave, and some other owner will, sooner or later, beat you anyway. So you’re only postponing the inevitable. And whilst you’re doing all of this, you’re fucking it up for Reb, too!”

“How so?”

“Look, Karl, I’m trying to build a business and this is my first customer and someone who could be a real help in getting others. I can’t afford to keep Reb without the work – I’ve got no job either, as you may have noticed – unless, that is, my business is a success. So no punishment for you now, no buy-in from this customer, no business, and I’ll have to sell Reb to give me some money to survive on. And for a slave like him – getting older – the prospects are not good. Before I bought him he was destined for the mines – well he might avoid that, I suppose. But he’ll probably end up in some coffle on an agricultural holding in the Midwest somewhere…”

“You’re making it up!”

“Karl, why would I do that?”

Karl stood there, looking at me, and at Reb. Reb stared down at the ground, trying to avoid his eyes. Then Karl asked “Is he bullshitting, Reb?”

“I don’t think so. But I can see why you don’t want to be punished. I was beaten and stuff, and it’s tough. So if you want to avoid it, that’s OK by me, as even in my old unit not all the guys could tolerate pain and suffering to the same extent. And I guess I’ll just have to take my chances, as a slave can’t control who buys him, and what he’s used for.”

“Fuck me, Reb, are you saying you think I’m a coward?”

“No. But I am saying I can see why you might want to avoid a punishment session.”

As they were speaking I could see Mrs Farrar advancing up the garden. She was accompanied by Greg – in a very splendid new uniform of a sea-green short tunic and matching brief shorts, all piped and embroidered with gold and which complemented his dark tan very well. The reason he was there I deduced was that he was carrying the fucking cat that was the cause of all these problems: the big ginger animal was in his arms, and I guess with its claws stuck into his skin.

I had no idea what was going to happen. But Mrs Farrar was looking expectantly at me as if I was in control – which I suppose I was. “Right, you two! Go and apologise to Mortimer – that’s the cat that you abused earlier.”

I saw Karl looking really rebellious, but Reb took him by the arm and pulled him towards where Greg was standing. The cat watched them, and I could see Greg flinch slightly as presumably it dug its claws further into his skin as they approached. “On your knees!” I snapped at them. “Can’t you see you’re frightening the animal again?”

It was comical, really, and if it hadn’t been so potentially serious I’m sure I would have fallen about laughing, as the two big men solemnly knelt down, and then Reb reached out and stroked the cat, and he nudged at Karl to do the same. It must have been so humiliating for them.

“Well I think that resolves it…”, I said hopefully. “As you can see, ma’am, they’re gentle giants really.”

“Indeed, Mr Masters. I can see they are behaving properly towards poor Mortimer now. But I do believe that you need to reinforce the message to them…. You mentioned chastising them, and although the A A S S is generally against harsh physical punishment, you have convinced me that it is kinder for these two slaves to receive some token now, so that they can avoid greater mistakes in the future and live generally more fulfilled lives.”

I saw I had no choice, and still had no idea how Karl would react.

There was a low wall separating the vegetable garden from the area we were standing on, and I snapped “Right, you two – bend over the wall!”

Very, very slowly Karl got to his feet, and with some urging from Reb, he did as I’d ordered and both men were standing next to each other, bent over the wall with their butts facing me.

“I’m afraid there has to be a little indelicacy now, Ma’am…. I am going to use a cane on them, and it is necessary to do it on the bare buttocks. If you wish to turn away, I will need to expose them…”

“Could you not simply do it as they are, Mr Masters?”

“Regrettably, no. There is likely to be blood. And if the blood then dries on their uniform, or if shreds of the uniform get carried into the wound by the cane, then it will be much harder for the slave to recover. I think that caning, if it needs to be done at all, of course,

needs to be on the bare skin to avoid these complications – in the best interests of the slave, naturally, as I think the A A S S would wish.”

“Quite so, Mr Masters. As ever, you can explain these things so sensibly. I believe I can see their bare skin as they are of course only slaves, and it’s not as if there are not many of the poor creatures who are kept naked around here, and one cannot but help see some of it.”

I’d hoped the prospect of their naked asses would have turned her off, but it now seemed I had no option but to proceed. I stood behind the two of them and said “I’m going to pull down your shorts now, and then I’m going to take one of those bamboo canes from the vegetable plot and I’m going to give you six strokes each on your bare asses. You can howl and scream as much as you like….”

“Fuck me!”, Karl muttered. “Why six? And just do it gently…”

“Karl, it needs to be a real beating. One that leaves marks. If you don’t think you’re man enough to take it….”

He shuffled around as if settling himself, and I moved closer and then pulled down Reb’s shorts, followed by Karl’s. He really did have a superb ass, but I couldn’t help notice that Reb hadn’t shaved him all the way through – as I looked between his spread legs I could see that his asshole must still be surrounded by hair.

I’d never actually caned another guy before, although I’d seen a lot of it on the porno videos of course. So I knew some of the stuff that I ought to do to make the experience for the two men as tough as possible – swishing the bamboo through the air so that they could hear the ‘whistling’ noise; using the end of it to tap on the inside of their ankles to make them move their feet apart to get their asses properly spread; then bringing the cane down slowly so that the end caressed their asses gently, so they could sense that I was ‘taking aim’ and getting into the right position. And then I was ready.

Nothing quite prepares you for the first time you bring a cane down onto a bare ass, does it? That tremendous feeling of power as you bring it as fast as you can down through the air; the way the slave’s body jerks forward quite involuntarily as the cane makes contact; the surprised shout of rage and pain from the slave; and finally the sight of the purple mark spreading over the bare skin.

I did Reb first, and I have to say that I thought I’d done a really good job. He had screamed at each stroke, in spite of trying not to, and after six strokes he was lying there making quiet sobbing noises that he had been unable to suppress. And I’d managed to get the strokes neatly parallel and approximately an equal distance apart, too, which I thought showed that I could soon become a master of the technique.

I was really worried about Karl, though, and before I started I whispered “So it’s going to be the same for you as it was for Reb. Are you sure you can take it? You can get up and walk away, you know, providing you’re prepared to take the consequences…”

“Fuck you, Steve! I can take anything he can!”

So there it was, my words had done their work! And I began. It was actually a lot more exciting to be caning Karl – I had some ‘hold’ over Reb as, if the worst came to the worst, he knew that there was no way of avoiding punishment. If he’d run off, the Slave Police would ultimately track him with his embedded chip, and that would be that. But Karl could simply vanish – he might have huge problems later, but he’d avoid the immediate pain and humiliation. So caning these ‘free’ buttocks was somehow more intense, more erotic – here I was hurting a man who was agreeing to lie there and take it. I sensed that he had ultimately accepted my total domination of him.

When I was finished I found I was sweating. Those of you who have not done it probably don’t realise the effort it is to wield a cane through the air like that and apply it with force. Or is it that the experience of striking the naked buttocks like that is so very, very special that a whole lot of your body’s mechanisms are triggered? Anyway, I knew that I had a huge erection, and I subconsciously bent my body to try to make it a little less conspicuous – even if Mrs Farrar would not notice it, either Reb or Karl would be bound to and make comments about it later.

Karl went to stand up, but I pressed my hand on his neck – underneath the chain collar – and snapped ”Stay there until you have permission to move”, then turned to Mrs Farrar and asked her politely if she would like to inspect the slaves at closer quarters – she shook her head. The pressure I was exerting on Karl’s neck wasn’t sufficient to hold a strong man like that down had he forced himself upwards, but it was one of those psychological things that is so important – it re-emphasised to him my dominance and control, a control which he was at some level accepting.

I left the two men there then, telling them that they could get up, and, interestingly, it was clear that they’d both been aroused sexually by the experience as there were distinct signs of pre-cum on their dicks which I noticed before they shuffled awkwardly around to attempt to conceal themselves from Mrs Farrar as they groped for their shorts. “Don’t stop work”, I commanded. “It will hurt, but you need to keep working, as we need the money.”

Inside the house Mrs Farrar felt that she needed another sherry, and I too had a big glass. Greg lay there on the floor playing with Mortimer – sort of ‘teasing’ the animal by stretching his hand out towards it, then trying to snatch it away before Mortimer struck him with his claws. I couldn’t help noticing that Greg was getting quite badly scratched by this and there

were drops of blood on his wrists. Mrs Farrar saw me looking. “Isn’t he just adorable? Not only does he have the sweetest temperament for a pony, but he likes animals and playing with Mortimer!” She beckoned Greg over and opened a box of chocolates that was standing on a side table searched through it, then popped one of them into Greg’s mouth. “There you are, your favourite, violet creme.”

“Mrs Farrar, I must ask you not to do that, please….”

“But he is such a good boy, and he deserves a reward…”

“His reward should be to know that you are pleased with him. A slave should need to further reward. And I am very concerned that he will get fat and lose muscle tone, or that his teeth will decay: veterinarians’ bills are very high, and if Greg’s teeth go I would have no option but to have them all extracted which would spoil his ability to eat slave chow…”

“Oh Mr Masters, no! Surely he could have fillings….”

“Mrs Farrar, I am afraid that I am not a rich man. I could not afford dental work – there’s no health insurance for slaves, you know. So extraction would be the only choice.”

“..but feeding him slave chow… Surely…?”

“Again, ma’am, you forget the realities of a slave’s life. I allow Greg to eat regular food, but it is almost certain that I will not be his only owner during his life. And other owners may not treat their slaves as well, and chow may be the only option. Think of how miserable it would be for Greg if at the end of the day, when he was famished, he had to wait and try to soak chow to soften it…. Assuming his owner provided him with a bowl, that is…”

“Oh Mr Masters, the unspeakable cruelty of these people…”

“It’s not cruel as such – not that I am apologising for owners in general – but the realities of life. Chow is cheap and nutritious, and most slaves manage it well. Anything else is an additional expense, or inconvenience, to the owner.”

“You are right, of course. I must raise the whole subject of slave nutrition at the next meeting of the A A S S. And in the meantime when we go into town tomorrow I will buy Greg a nice toothbrush, so after he has had a little treat he can ensure his dental hygiene.”

Our talk then turned to payment, and Mrs Farrar was absolutely delighted when she saw that some part of the bill would go to the A A S S. “I will certainly recommend you to my friends, Mr Masters, and at the committee meeting next Monday I will also suggest that you be named supplier of slaves to the Society.” She then got out a cheque book and wrote a

cheque for the mount, apologising for “being old fashioned” but that she did not like carrying large sums of cash, and found that paying with a card was “not like actually spending money”.

I had a few practical problems then, actually – but I managed to sweet talk a clerk in Jake’s bank into accepting the cheque in to his account. She told me that it was so rare and that she had not actually ever seen one, “especially in relation to a simple workers’ account like your friend’s.”

There was trouble later, of course, when Reb and Karl got back to the apartment. Reb tried to stay out of it, but Jake stormed around telling me how much his butt hurt and how totally humiliated he felt to be standing there in front of a woman having that done to him. “Look”, I finally shouted. “It’s time you took responsibility for your own actions. I know you were in the marines and you’re used simply to taking orders and doing as you’re told and not having to think, but out here in the real world things are different. You’re a free man, and you’re responsible for what you do. You wouldn’t have had to be caned if you hadn’t been so fucking stupid and hadn’t thrown stuff at someone’s cherished animal. And then you did have a choice – a choice which you exercised freely – to accept a punishment or to be fired. That’s what millions of workers do every day.”

“It was no choice….”

“Yes it was! You could have walked off and accepted the consequences of that. But you stayed, and you need to accept the consequences of that decision, too. Reb didn’t have a choice as I own him, but you did. So stop complaining.”

“It fucking hurts….”

“And stop whining, Karl! It’s meant to hurt. But you don’t hear Reb complaining, do you? Or do you believe I went easier on him than on you? Or perhaps he’s just tougher?”

For the second time that day I thought he might hit me as he didn’t like me making unfavourable comparisons with Reb, but Reb put out a hand and kind of held him back. “Let’s shower”, he said to Karl: “Hot water might take some of the sting out of it.”

“And don’t think I’m totally uncaring”, I told the pair of them. “I bought some analgesic cream from the pharmacy this afternoon, and when you’ve got your asses nice and clean – clean enough that I won’t mind touching them – I’ll massage it in to both of you.”

When they came out of the shower Reb saw me holding the big tin of cream and went to offer to take it, but I shook my head and told them to both lie down on their bellies on our bed. They looked amazingly sexy, actually – two mature guys who were in great shape

physically lying there with their butts up, just as if they were waiting to be fucked. It was hard to decide which of them I’d take first if I had the opportunity.

I did Reb first, and I always like handling his butt muscles anyway. But now there was the added excitement of feeling the heat radiating upwards onto my hands, and the sensation of the ridges of the tissue in the welts as my fingers ran over them. Reb groaned as I continued to work the cream in, but whether it was because it was still painful or because he liked being massaged like this it was not easy to say.

Then it was Karl’s turn, and almost as soon as I’d started, he began complaining – no, not complaining, actually, more like making a lot of uncalled-for remarks such as the fact that it must be fun for a fag to be doing it. I wanted to slap him – slap him hard on that butt, but thought that if I did the reaction I’d get would not be worth the satisfaction from causing him additional pain. So I worked away diligently, enjoying the quite different sensation that came to me from Karl – for one thing he had a lot of hairs on his actual butt and they caused my palms to tingle as I ran my hands over them. And then there was the different ‘look’ of him, partly because of the very visible tan lines and the stark whiteness of his ass, and partly because he was, if anything, even more heavily built there than Reb was.

As he began to relax under my hands – or as the analgesic creme started to work – Karl too began to moan softly. I couldn’t resist it – I took another dollop of cream and very, very gently started to massage it down into his butt crack. He moaned some more, and I became bolder, putting a finger at the top of his powerful thighs then trying to work it upwards into his crack. Karl was moaning more and more, but I fucked it up: I went too far, my finger touched the pucker of his hole and at once he twisted around and glared up at me. “Fucking fag!” He roared. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“There were some cane marks around there, and I was trying to help.”

“Leave my ass alone, fag!”, he snapped, and with that got up off the bed. I was glad to see he winced with pain as his movements had been too sudden as he needed to learn to moderate his temper. And I’d enjoyed that initial touch of what I felt certain was complete virgin territory – Karl needed to have something done about that before he was much older, I decided.

When Jake came home the two men were lying around again – they’d moved themselves to the couch, which they’d pulled out into its bed formation at great inconvenience to me as it took up most of the space in the living room of the apartment. They were lying on their bellies again, with their butts bare, and I didn’t think they were looking too bad. But the moment Jake saw them he gave a low whistle and said “Who gave them that thrashing?”

“Your fag lover boy!” Karl told him, and I made another mental note that something needed to be done to Karl before he was very much older.

“Yes, it was me. They were fucking stupid, and I needed them to be punished to keep faith with the customer…”

“But Karl’s a free man…. You can’t do that to a free guy.”

“Why not? I did it to Reb, even though I don’t think it was primarily he who was at fault. And Karl was supposed to be a slave, so it needed to be done to him, too. And in any case, he asked for it – I gave him the choice, and he said he could take it as he was as tough as Reb. But, frankly, I’m beginning to doubt it… You don’t hear Reb going on and on complaining…”

“Listen, fucker, don’t start saying I’m not as tough as Reb…” Karl snarled. And his reaction caused me to snap – I’ve told you I was pissed off by his whole attitude, and this was the final straw. I picked up a big hardback book of Jake’s that was lying around and slammed it down onto his butt with a resounding ‘slap’ sound.

Karl screamed like a wounded animal, then tried to throw himself off the couch at me – and because of the confined space I was easily able to side-step his initial assault and he crashed into the wall and fell to the ground. As he started to collect himself together to come at me, Reb threw himself at him to try to calm him, not altogether successfully. Jake and I stood there as the two naked men grappled together – it was really erotic, actually, like having one of those porn movies that specialise in nude wrestling playing out right in front of you, with the added excitement that they didn’t actually have to do very much to actually be in quite a lot of pain because of their caning. Finally, they stopped, their naked bodies locked together in stalemate.

“Listen to you! He did this, so I did that, so he then did this… You’re like a couple of kids, not grown men. Now I want no more of this, from any of you…”

Well I calmed down as I could see that Jake was partially correct, but Karl still looked pissed off. So I said to Jake “Let’s you and me go out to dinner tonight – a cheap Chinese, or something… I’ve got the first payment and it’s in your bank account, so we have the cash.”

“We should all four go, Steve – there’s a Chinese that doesn’t discriminate, a couple of blocks over, so Reb can come too.”

“No, Jake. They can’t. Look at their butts – there’s no way they could sit throughout a meal! Let’s you and me go, as there’s stuff I want to talk about with you, and we can bring them takeaway back.”

Reb looked as if he was happy with this, but Karl said he wasn’t a sissy and he was going to join us free men. So I said, calmly, “So you think you’re better than Reb, do you? All this time you spent acting like you’re his buddy, and now you’re happy to leave him here all alone…”

“He can come to!”

“No, Karl, he can’t. Because I’m his owner, and I’ve said he’s to stay here, if you want to know the reason why. So if you’re not Reb’s buddy, sure, come and join Jake and me.”

Karl looked furious, but I thought I’d made a good point and was secretly very pleased with the way that I’d been able to take another step in getting Karl to identify with Reb, and thus start to believe that he was more like a slave than a free man.

“What the fuck’s going on?” Jake asked me once we were sat in the Chinese restaurant. “Caning them like that, you and Karl at each others’ throats….”

“I told you about the caning! They needed to be punished as they did something stupid that might have lost us the business. I bet you punish slaves all the time at S & D for doing stupid crap. And as for Karl – well, he’s not ‘settling down’ quite as quickly as I hoped, but there are some good signs…”

“What the fuck are you going on about, Steve?”

“Look, we know we can take ‘rubbish’ slaves, do some remedial work, and make a nice profit: So we can search out guys like Reb who haven’t been properly broken and show them the error of their ways – Reb now accepts he’s a slave, and knows he has to behave, or else he’ll end up stubbed, down the mines. Then we can find slaves who have been cruelly ill-treated – ill treated to the extent that they’re effectively worthless – like Greg and Russ – and we can look after them and bring them back into useful productive service. I’ve got some numbers, and if we sold Reb, Greg and Russ today we’d be sitting on a very sizeable profit. But think about it – if we could sell Karl as a slave, it would be pure profit: no cost of acquisition as there was with Reb, and no lengthy and potentially costly remedial work as there was with Greg and Russ – we can’t rely on finding slaves who are so consistently undervalued in future.”

“But Karl’s not a slave…”

“And that’s the magic part of it! Don’t you see?”

“No. I don’t. Perhaps I don’t have a brain the size of yours…”

“Don’t undersell yourself, Jake! You’ve got a lot of things that are the size of mine…” I smiled, and put my foot up under the table and rubbed his crotch with it.

“Look, Jake, you’ve heard Karl say how lots of experienced guys like him are being let go from the forces as they’ve decided to use slaves instead as it’s better in all kinds of ways – cheaper to train and cheaper to equip, for example, as they don’t have to be so concerned with slaves getting injured or blown up or whatever. So what’s going to happen to all those guys? There’s not a lot of jobs anyway, as we know – and although they may have been very good marines or infantrymen or whatever, those are not skills which are of any use in ‘real’ jobs, even assuming there were any ‘real’ jobs anyway. So they’ll mostly spend their discharge money, then be destitute, and then be enslaved.”

Jake was nodding, but still looking puzzled. “But think about it – these guys are all used to obeying orders. Obeying orders without thinking much about it. And they’re used to living a kind of communal life, in barracks and stuff. So for a lot of them the transition to slavery won’t be all that difficult – but, as we know, once they’re enslaved, that’s it: they’re slaves for life. So suppose we offer them something – offer them a job, security, somewhere to live, and even a tiny wage, just enough to buy a beer occasionally, wouldn’t that be interesting to them? They’d be slaves in effect, but we leave them with the possibility – the faint possibility – that things could change as they’re not really slaves. They’re simply having their life run as if they were.”

Jake nodded again, “Now think of it from the other side, Jake, from the point of view of the owner. Is it really exciting to own a slave?”

Jake nodded. “Yes, sure it is”, I continued. “You actually own another guy. You can do what you like with him. You can give him orders, you can fuck him, you can make him work for you… And if he fails in any of this ,you can punish him in various ways. It’s pretty exhilarating: here’s a man, a strong virile man, and I totally own and control him. But that experience could be improved, I reckon.”

“How?”

“Here’s this man, this free man. I can give him orders. I can fuck him. I can make him work for me. And if he disobeys, I can punish him. I reckon a lot of men buy slaves because

they want power over another man, and here we are providing something even better: a free man, over whom you have this tremendous power!”

“It’ll never work. You’ll never get guys to do it – well, not the fucking and the punishment, anyway.”

“Oh I think we can, Jake. Look at Karl, he’s prime target material – from the marines, thrown out… About to be destitute… And I’ve already punished him. And you may have noticed he’s wearing a slave collar. And he’s been working hard – really hard – as hard as our real slave, Reb, has. If we can make Karl into the kind of quasi-slave I’m thinking of, we can do it to anyone. We’ll have a ready supply of slaves, slaves of the right ‘kind’, too – young-ish, good hard bodies – and we won’t have had to pay a cent to acquire them as they’ll volunteer. So they’ll be one hundred percent profit.”

“It sounds a good plan, Steve. But I’m not sure it’s going to work.”

“Why not?”

“Well I buy all the stuff about them being used to obeying orders, and being fit and stuff, and maybe you can convince them to be punished. But the rest…. Giving the owner the power to fuck them…. They’ll never agree to that.”

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